


Dead Wrong

by smellyleaf



Category: Olympics RPF, Swimming RPF, usa swimming
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Real Person Slash - Freeform, real person fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4553541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smellyleaf/pseuds/smellyleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stupid Scooby Doo. Stupid nuts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> **[THIS WORK WAS IMPORTED FROM SMELLYFIC.LIVEJOURNAL.COM]**

Over the years, Michael Phelps has learned that there is a difference between being lonely and simply being alone.

Alone, he mused from his bed across the room, is when there is no one else around. Glancing over at his sleeping roommate, he averted his gaze back to the silent TV for a moment, then clenched his eyes shut tight. Lonely was that feeling you got in a stadium full of people when the love of your damn life won first place without so much as a glance in your direction.

Rolling over so that he faced Ryan, Michael sighed and wrapped one lone arm tightly around his own midriff, squeezing his churning stomach. He had come to this meet with the intention of explaining his feelings to Ryan, but that had all flown out the window the minute he'd laid eyes on him. Tan skin, blue eyes, white teeth. Ryan was too perfect for a geek like Michael, and it hurt, most definitely.

Lonely. He shut his eyes again and squeezed his belly. Stupid Ryan and his stupid way he giggled whenever Michael accidentally dropped his towel in the locker room. Or the way he batted those long eyelashes at the McDonald's lady when she said the milkshake machine was broken. He was charming, irresistible.

And that was the whole problem.

"Mmm, carrotcake. . ." Ryan rolled over onto his back, scratching at his nuts through the fabric of his Scooby Doo boxers. Stupid Scooby Doo boxers. Stupid nuts.

Michael scowled at him and closed his eyes, but that was worse. Behind his eyes, there were no Scooby Doo boxers. No, far from it. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes again.

He was met with the startling beauty of two bright blue ones staring back at him. At first, he didn't have a clue as to what to say. Ryan was just looking at him, with that same curiously blank expression he'd had ever since winning the medal. Like Michael was just too stupid for words.

"What?" Michael's voice came out too shaky and panicked, and he tried to tone it back, "I thought you were sleeping."

Ryan studied him for another moment, shaking his unruly curls back out of his eyes before he finally spoke, "Are you going to kiss me, or not?"

Michael could not quite believe his ears, and he gulped down a mouthful of air so quickly that he choked on it. When he was through coughing, he found the inner strength to dare to ask the question poised on his lips.

"Huh?"

Ryan stood then, and took two steps across the space between them, letting the edge of Michael's bed knock into his knees, "I said: Are you going to kiss me, or not?"

There is nothing between them anymore but air. Air, and something much more tangible than that, something that Michael can almost feel his atoms colliding with as he leans in and presses his lips softly against Ryan's.

It's the most amazing feeling, like his heart is going to explode right out of his chest and start swimming laps around the room. There is absolutely no feeling that can compare to it, and he separates himself only to breathe.

"I thought. . . I. . ."

Ryan smiled against his lips, "Well, I guess you were dead wrong."

That's not the only thing Michael might have been wrong about, and Ryan takes it upon himself to inform him of each and every discrepancy.  
  



End file.
